His apartment

Luckily, he doesn't invite you out to a fancy restaurant, where I'd be worried about some expensive bill we can't afford, and happily drive to the address of the apartment he lives at now. As we drive into a progressively richer area, Abby remarks, "George has done well for himself, huh?"

"No kidding. He always said his dad was rich, but I guess I never really believed him..." The two od you can only dream about how comfortable life must be living somewhere like this neighborhood. Pulling into the parking garage, you remark to Abby, "I almost thought there would be a valet," making her laugh. The inside of the building is as fancy as we had imagined from the outside, and once we are in front of his door, I knock, not sure what to expect.

The door opens and there is George, who gives us a huge smile. "Hey! Glad you could make it, come on in!" The George you remember was a tall, but lanky black kid with glasses who was a bit of nerd. He got picked on a lot, most of the time because his scrawny body couldn't cash fhe checks his mouth wrote. In the time since you'd last seen him, his body has filled out. A lot. He must have packed on at least a hundred pounds worth of muscle to go with a couple more inches in height. He could easily pass for a NFL defensive end now. Seeing me stare, he taps next to his eyes. "Lasik. Nobody can call be four-eyes now." To be honest, I hadn't even noticed that he didn't have glasses anymore. Even if he had, I doubt anyone would dare call him any names these days.

Abigail is the one to speak first. "You have a beautiful home. We," she punctuates that word with a playful jab with her elbow, "are so happg that you invited us to dinner."

"Ooof. Yeah, what she said," I add, making both of them laugh.

"Well, I appreciate you guys for coming. Come on, dinner is already on the table." He quickly ushers you over to the dining room table where a huge roast is sitting on the center with all kinds of sides arranged around it. "I can't take credit for cooking it, but I wish I could. The place I ordered it from is amazing." I try not to drool. Abby and I have had some plain meals in the last couple of weeks, and this feast looks like something out of a dream. "Let's dig in. Then we can catch up."

The three of us quickly stuff ourselves, Abby and I because we haven't had food like this in so long, and George simply due to his size. After getting our initial plates cleared, we finally catch up, chatting as we continue to graze on the delicious feast. George has been up to a whole lot more than us, having started a couple of very successful businesses, which explains why he could afford such a nice apartment in such a rich part of town. By compare, our lives are very dull, but George insists on hearing every detail, which we are happy to indulge, only pausing when our current situation comes up.

"I'd really rather not talk about it, George. It's been such a pleasant night..." Looking at the frown on Abigail's face, it may be too late already.

"It's me, man. You can talk to me," George leans across the table so he can hear me better. He's still the same old George, only now he has an aura about him that he didn't have before. Half intimidation from his size and half charisma from his easy confidence. I glance over at Abby who just barely shrugs.

"Well, I guess... The truth is, Abby lost her job, and, well, we don't have much time left in our place, so..." I akwardly trail off. George launches into a series of questions, some of which, I don't even have the answers to, about stuff like her old company, our rental agreement, and our finances.

As we get interrogated, I look over and see that Abigail isn't taking it very well. She finally stands up. "I'm not feeling well. Is it alright if I lie down?" she asks our host.

As if she snapped him out of a daze, he realizes how hard he was going with his questions, and bashfully says, "Oh, of course. The guest room is right down the hall. Last door on the right." He intently watches her walk down the hall, as do I. I know its not right to stare, but even a demure dress like she is wearing now struggles to hide how big and shapely her rear end is. George shakes his head once she is out of view. "You're a lucky guy."

I smile. "Yeah, I know. Not that you didn't try and take her from me for years," I remind him, making both of us laugh. "Besides, I think it made my luck worse in other places."

George ponders for a moment. "I might be able to help with that... I'm sure you've noticed that I have a lot more room than I need."

I've noticed, but I shake my head. "We can't afford to rent even just a room from you. I'm sorry. I appreciate it, though."

"Well, there are other ways to pay than money, you know. You guys could trade some... services in exhange for me letting you stay here rent free."

"I've picked up so many freelance jobs to try and scrape by, I just don't have the time..."

"That's alright. I was thinking about Abigail anyway." I stop to think. Techincally, Abigail doesn't have a job right now, so it's not like she doesn't have the time.

"What would she even do, though?" I ask.

"Oh, I'm sure you can guess," he says with a grin.